Curse of the Sparrows
by an-angel-in-hell
Summary: Jack Sparrow is the next victim of his family's curse. He is destined to die alone and penniless, like all of his ancestors. But Jack won't accept this fate, and embarks on a quest to break the curse and prove himself to his father. COMPLETE!
1. Beginnings

The Curse of the Sparrows

Chapter 1- Beginnings

Summary- Why does Jack always have such a hard time of things? Simple- he is the next victim of the Sparrow family curse. But Jack does not take this lightly, and embarks on a lifelong quest to break it, thereby freeing him and all his descendants.

Note- This story will be told in a series of vignettes. They will be in chronological order, but they'll jump around a bit. (For example, chapter two will be set three months after chapter one, chapter three will be a year after chapter two, and so on.) Just making that clear. If you find the method confusing, please let me know.

-

The Brigand's Haven was crowded, as usual. It was a bar, and very unpleasant, but this drew the scum of the town to it. Considering that the town in question was Tortuga, the scum of the town were really quite frightening. It was well known that most desperate women would rather turn to prostitution that accept a job there, and it was not uncommon for the owner, Tom Sparrow, to have to remove at least one dead body from the premises at closing time.

It was no place for a child, but this was exactly where Tom's son, Jack, had grown up.

You see, Jack's mother had been- forgive me for putting it so bluntly- a whore. His father was a criminal who was on the run from the authorities and had happened to spend a night with said whore. Unluckily for her, she became pregnant. Unluckily for him, as soon as the babe was born, she dumped him with Tom and proceeded to walk out of his life. Well, not so much walk, as run away as fast as humanly possible for a woman who has just given birth a few hours ago.

So here was Jack, the child that no one wanted. Tom was all for chucking him into the ocean and being rid of him- in fact, he nearly did. But as he stood at the end of the dock, holding the baby out over the water, Jack gripped his finger with one tiny hand.

_Huh,_ thought Tom, _the lad's got a strong grip._ It was a strange, detached thought, but it caused him to re-think the situation._ I could just keep him locked upstairs all the time until he's old enough, and then I'd have another pair of hands around the bar. It'd be free labor, too. Yeah, I think I will. _

Tom Sparrow was not a good man. You have seen his thoughts, the chance for his own personal gain was the only reason he did not kill his son. Yet… perhaps he will grow fond of Jack. We will see.

At the age of five, Tom put Jack to work serving drinks. Since then, he had grown invaluable to his father in helping to run the bar. They were a decent team, Tom and Jack- but Tom's love for Jack did not extend beyond that of a business partner at this point in time, as Jack was soon to find out.

For the moment, however, let us return to our opening scene- the crowded tavern, filled with pirates, thieves, and the like. A now fifteen-year-old Jack Sparrow was serving drinks. He had no beads in his hair, no bandana, and no hat. He had no kohl around his eyes, and his skin was not yet tanned and roughened by years at sea. He was wearing a dirty shirt that at one point may have been white, and a pair of black pants that were much to big for him. The pants were rolled up at the ankle and held on at the waist with a belt. Stuck inside the belt was a cutlass his father had given him for protection when he deemed him old enough (at the age of seven).

Jack was rather skinny, a situation born of the fact that he rarely received three meals a day. When he did, one or more of the meals was likely to be something meager, like an apple or a few slices of bread.

Jack had now finished serving all the drinks on his tray, and had gone behind the bar to sit down. He had been sitting there for a minute, maybe two, when his father approached.

"Whatddaya think you're doin'?" he asked his son, yanking him out of the chair. It was not a question, but Jack attempted to answer it all the same.

"I need to sit down! I've been servin' drinks all day!" he protested. "An' I wouldn't mind some supper, either."

"Here." His father said, tossing his son an apple.

"This all?" he asked, disappointed. Though, it must be admitted, he had not expected much better.

"Sure is! Maybe if you work harder, you'll get more, eh?"

"Like anything I could do around this dump would earn me a decent meal." Jack muttered as he grabbed another tray of drinks to serve.

"Oy, Jack!" Jack's ears perked up instantly as he heard his name through the din. He turned to see a couple of pirates sitting at a table near the back of the room. Grinning, he made his way over.

"Charlie!" he exclaimed, sliding he and the man he was with a drink. "How ya doin'? Who's your friend?"

The reader may be interested to know at this point that Charlie is wearing a tri-corner hat. It is less worn and tattered, but it is unmistakably the same one Jack will wear later in his life.

Charlie was short, and a bit chubby. He had shaggy blonde hair and a short beard. Both were beginning to grey, but from Charlie's attitude, one would get the impression that he was unaware of this, which was delightfully refreshing. His friend would probably be reasonably tall at standing height. He was black, with hair worn so short he looked bald, and a curly beard. He wore a round pair of glasses close against his face.

"This is Jacob." Charlie said. "He's a fellow sailor on the _Sweet Vengeance_."

Jack whistled, impressed. "She as good of a ship as they say?" he asked eagerly.

"You bet." Jacob said, speaking for the first time.

"Aye." Charlie said. "Pull up a chair an' we'll tell you all about 'er."

Jack glanced toward the bar, only to see his father watching him. "Not now. Maybe once things slow down, savvy?"

"All right." Charlie said. "I'm gonna hold ya to it though."

"Later then." Jack said, setting off toward the bar. His eyes had lost the light they had when he was talking to his friend, and, if you had looked closely, you might have seen fear in Jack's eyes when he saw his father watching him.

"All right, Charlie." Jacob said. "I've met the kid. He the whole reason we're here? I mean, look at this place! There ain't even any cheap women about!"

"Jake," Jacob grimaced at the nickname. "You need to see it my way. I've known Jack for a while, he's a good kid, but his father's a monster. He's had him servin' drinks since he was five! Can you imagine that?"

"What's it to you? Face it, Charlie, there's nothin' you can do for the kid." Jacob always preferred to be realistic, and, honestly, he had to admit that Charlie was probably not cut out to be a pirate. He was too kind-hearted, really.

"Actually mate, I think there is."

"What then?"

"We're a few men short, right?"

Jacob thought he could guess where this was going. "Right." He said, doubtfully.

"I'm gonna ask Jack to come with us when we leave. I'll vouch for him before the capt'n, even, but he needs to get out of here!"

Jacob sighed, he'd guessed as much. "Charlie, we leave tomorrow morning. Even if you can convince the cap'n- which I doubt- do you think the kid'll actually come with us?"

"Jake," Charlie said seriously. "If you'd grown up in Tortuga, and with a father like that, wouldn't you want to run away?"

Jacob looked over at the bar. Jack was talking to his father. He couldn't hear what they were saying over the din of the crowded bar, but apparently the 'talk' had been an 'argument', because Tom suddenly cuffed his son on the side of his head and pushed him away to go serve some more customers. Jack rubbed the side of his head and, as he walked away, Jacob saw him wipe his eyes on his sleeve.

He had never been softhearted, but this did something to him. He turned back to Charlie.

"Aye." He said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're right, mate. That kid needs to get away from 'ere."

-

For the benefit of you, the reader, let us go back in time a bit and eavesdrop on Jack's conversation with his father.

"Jack!" Tom barked at him as soon as he left Charlie and Jacob's table. "Get over here!"

Jack hurried over as fast as the half-full tray of drinks he carried would let him. "What is it, dad?" he asked, setting his tray down on the bar.

"These few hours are our busiest." Tom told his son. "You can talk to your friends when things slow down."

"Dad, can't I just talk to them for a bit-"

He shouldn't have pushed his father so far. Tom's fist suddenly shot out and hit Jack on the side of his head.

Jack stumbled and would have fallen, but his outstretched hand caught the side of the bar in time. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop tears from falling.

"Now go do your job, or you'll get no meals for a week, ya hear?" With that, Tom shoved Jack away.

Picking up the tray with one hand from where he'd set it, Jack walked away, brushing the tears from his face with the other.

-

In a few hours, most of the patrons of "The Brigand's Haven" had either left or passed out. Jack and his father would leave them slumped over their tables until closing time, then they would pick them up and throw them out the door.

But right now, in the early hours after midnight before Jack would be called away for the closing chores, he was free to do as he liked- as long as he stayed inside the pub.

Jack usually spent this time sitting behind the bar daydreaming. He would close his eyes and imagine what it would be like to be a pirate. To sail on the high seas, to be feared by all, to be rich with treasure- that would be the life.

Today, however, he did not daydream. As soon as the drunken old coot in the corner stopped ordering more rum (due to his loss of consciousness), Jack headed over to Charlie and Jacob, who had managed to stay reasonably sober.

"Jack," Charlie said when he'd sat down at their table. "We've got a proposition for ye."

"Lemme hear it." Jack replied.

"_Sweet Vengeance_ is a bit short of crew members." Jacob said. "So, me an' Charlie were wondrin'- 'ow'd you like ta come with us when we leave port tomorrow mornin'?"

Jack hesitated. "Look," he said with a pained look. "I'd love to, really, but- I'm needed here."

"Jack, wake up!" Charlie exclaimed. "Your old man treats you horrid! You gotta get away from 'im, mate."

"No- I'll be fine!" Jack insisted.

"Look, Jack, Charlie's right." Jacob said. "Yer father- what's 'e to you?"

"He's my _father!_ I care about 'im, as much as it may seem otherwise. Hell, I guess I might even love 'im."

"Aye, maybe so." Charlie said. "But do ya think the feelin's mutual?"

Jack was motionless for a second. "Of- of course it is.' He said with effort. "An' don' get me wrong, it's a nice proposition, an' I'm thankful to ye for makin' it- but I'll be fine here."

Jacob glanced at Charlie, as if to say- _We can do no more._

Charlie replied with a look that said- _But we have to try._

"Alright, Jack." Charlie said, standing. "If yer sure, we can't make you change yer mind- but think on it overnight, okay? If ya decide ya wanna come with us, meet us in front of _Sweet Vengeance_ at seven tomorrow mornin', alright?"

"Alright." Jack said heavily. "But I can assure ye that I _won't_ be seein' ya there."

-

"Dad?" Jack asked as they put out the lights in the bar.

"What is it?" his father asked.

"Well-" he said. "I was wondrin' somthin'."

"What?"

"Do- d'ya luv me?"

"Love yeh? Jesus, Jack, are ya bloody insane? 'Course I don't. Ye're nice to 'ave 'round, but I reckon I could get along fine wi'out ye…"

Jack felt like the ground he was standing on had suddenly decided to drop down a bottomless chasm. The feeling was, in fact, very much akin to the one he would feel five years later, when Barbossa betrayed him.

"Oh." He said, feeling rather numb. "Yeah, tha's what I thought."

The next morning at dawn, Jack packed his belongings into a sack and quietly slipped out of the pub. By seven o clock he was at the docks, and by nine the pirate ship _Sweet Vengeance_ was sailing out of Tortuga with a new crewmember.

As Charlie and Jacob explained to Jack how the ship was run, he turned for a brief moment to look back at the town he'd known all his life. Somehow, it gave him a sense of looking into the past. He looked toward the horizon. It appealed to him- it was a place that you could always see, but never reach. Like the future. And, for the first time in fifteen years, Jack Sparrow thought that his future just might be something worth living for.

-

Well, there you have it- chapter one. Like it? Hate it? No particular opinion? Please review! I know it's long, I just wanted to introduce everybody to the characters, since they're almost all OC's…most chapters will be shorter.


	2. Ambition

Chapter 2- Ambition

Thank you for the reviews! The last chapter was mainly an intro to the setting, like I said… this one gets us into the main plot. Finally, you shall find out about the curse! Mwah-ha! Yeah, ok, that was weird, wasn't it? Ok, here's the story…

-

Jack was now sixteen years old. It had been three months since he had run away from home, and he had not been back since. He was not at all homesick.

Life on the account suited Jack exceedingly well. He felt like he was born to sail the sea, and to be a pirate.

Charlie had always been his friend, and that friendship had only grown during their time at sea. Jack had also grown fond of Jacob, even though he could be a bit stiff at times.

At the moment, Jack was helping to move the plunder they had just got off of the latest ship they had captured below decks. It wasn't a real _treasure_, mind- just some fabrics, weapons, food, supplies, and money, but it could be sold for a fair profit.

He set down the barrel he'd been carrying with a grunt. Wiping his brow, (which was now adorned with the red bandana we are all so familiar with) he headed back up on deck to bring down the rest.

The addition of the bandana was not the only change. Jack's skin was tanner now, and he had a few beads in his hair.

When he got up there, Charlie approached him. "Jack." He said grabbing a barrel. "I found out where we're headin'."

Taking a large crate, Jack wondered momentarily why Charlie seemed to think he would care overly much. "Where's that?" he asked.

"Tortuga."

Jack nearly dropped the barrel he was carrying. "Oh." He said, trying to recover. "Well then, I'm sure it'll be, uh, interestin'."

"Ye plan on goin' ashore when we get there?" Charlie asked as they went below.

"If the captain gives me leave." He replied.

"D'ye _want_ to go ashore?"

Jack set down his barrel next to the others in the storage room with a bit more force than was necessary. "I could do with a few nights on dry land, yeah."

"You'll be okay?"

Jack sighed. "Look, mate, there is one condition."

Charlie arched his eyebrows in a silent question.

"If we're gonna go out drinkin', we gotta stop somewhere besides The Brigand's 'Aven." He said it with a completely serious face, and Charlie wasn't sure how to react for a minute. Then Jack burst into laughter.

"You're bloody insane, mate." Charlie said.

"It's a gift." Jack retorted.

-

When night fell, however, Jack was not so cocky.

There is something about nighttime that magnifies our fears and erodes our self-confidence. Anyone may fall into this deadly trap, and Jack was no exception. Perhaps the Jack Sparrow of later years will learn to avoid it, but at age sixteen, he was helpless in the face of the power of the night.

This is the reason why Jack, instead of mending one of the sails that had torn earlier in the day, (which was what he was supposed to be doing) was leaning against the rail on the starboard side of the ship, close to the bow, looking out into the darkness.

Jacob, who was also on watch, became slightly worried when he saw Jack maintain that position for close to ten minutes. So he left the crow's nest, where he and an elderly pirate they called Old Tom had been acting as lookouts, and went over to him.

"Ye alright, Jack?" he asked, trying not to sound concerned, He had learned that if you were nonchalant with Jack, he would tell you what was on your mind, whereas if you acted worried, he wouldn't open his mouth.

"See that?" Jack asked, pointing at a faraway cluster of lights.

"Aye." Said Jacob.

"Tha's Tortuga."

Jacob didn't respond, mostly because he was at a loss for what to say.

"It's funny." Jack continued after a moment, still looking out over the water. "I spent fifteen years of my life there, an' fer that entire time, I were wishin' I were somewhere else. An' now that I've left, I'd rather not go back at all. But when I do go back, I'm afraid that I won't want to leave again." He turned to look at Jacob. "Crazy, ain't it?"

"Not necessarily." Jacob said slowly. "It's yer home, Jack."

"Aye, but where's home? Is it where yer family is? Cuz if so I don't got much've one, an' the bit I do 'ave ain't worth speakin' of. Is it where yeh spent yer childhood? Cuz if _that's_ so, it don't really count, seein' as me childhood's a thing I'm rather keen on forgettin'. Is home where ye feel ye belong? Cuz if so, mate, my home's the sea."

"That's… really poetic, Jack."

Jack grunted noncommittally.

"I think it's the first time ye've said somethin' that deep when ye weren't dead drunk."

Jack snorted. The snort turned into a chuckle, and the chuckle into a laugh. Soon Jacob joined in, and as they laughed, Jack managed, for a moment, to forget Tortuga, and the memories that awaited him there.

-

The next day, they docked in Tortuga. As the crew went off in their separate directions, Jack looked around.

He saw the town of his childhood- and the town he wished he could never see again. It was, in a word decrepit, which also described his life there, which had seemed to mirror the buildings that rotted along with their occupants.

He was interrupted from his depressed recollections by Jacob, who rested his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Ye alrigh', Jack?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He replied, fooling no one.

Charlie approached them. He was in an optimistic mood, mainly at the prospect of the night that awaited them. "Shall we be off then?" he asked.

"You two go ahead." Jack said slowly. "I'm gonna go check up on… a friend of mine."

"Ya want me ta come with?" Jacob asked.

"No!' Jack said, a bit too quickly. "No- I'll just be a minute."

"Alright then." Charlie said. "We'll meet you at The Faithful Bride."

"See ya in a bit then." Jack replied, hurrying off before anyone could ask more questions.

He made his way to the outskirts of the sprawling town. The streets were unnamed, but this was the territory he had grown up in, so he did not stop and did not falter- if he did, he was afraid he might loose his nerve.

He turned around a corner- and received quite a shock.

The building had obviously been abandoned to fire. The roof was caving in, and the walls were crumbling. A charred, faded sign above the door announced the name of the pub it had once been.

The sign was unreadable now, but Jack had seen it so many times that he knew what it said.

"The Brigand's Haven." He muttered. He gave a long sigh. What now?

He looked across the street, experiencing a sense of déjà vu.

As a child, he had frequently looked out one of the windows, to see this same view. The intersecting street was referred to as "Lover's Lane", because it was haunted by a great deal of the town's prostitutes. Jack had always wondered if his mother worked on that corner. He sometimes wished that he knew where she was… but not lately. The truth was that she had abandoned him. It would be best, he reasoned, _not_ to seek her out.

He shook his head. There was no use dwelling on the past. He set off down the street.

In a few minutes, he'd arrived at a shabby and thoroughly unpleasant little shack. He knocked on the door.

"Who is it!" it was not phrased as a question.

"Jack Sparrow."

The door swung open, revealing a fat old man with an eye patch and pipe stuck in his mouth. He both looked and smelled as if he had never bathed in his life, which was probably close to the truth.

Despite his appearance, however, the man, who was known only as One-Eyed Joe, was not what he seemed. Rumored to be a former spy, One-Eye (as most called him) was debatably the best source of information in all of Tortuga.

"You Tom Sparrow's boy?" One-Eye asked.

Jack nodded.

"What ye be wanting?"

"Information."

"It'll cost ye."

"I'm prepared to pay."

"Whaddaya need ta know?"

"The Brigand's Haven's burnt down. Where is my father now?"

"Ye got two shillings?"

Jack handed over the money.

"Go down the street to the first intersection and take a right. You'll find 'im on the corner of the third intersectin' street."

"Thank ye kindly." Jack said, and set off.

-

When Jack reached the corner, his first thought was that One-Eye had been mistaken. All that was there was an empty lot, with a few homeless men camped out in the middle.

Jack was about to try retracing his steps, when he saw one bum sitting away from the rest. He looked familiar.

Warily, Jack made his way over.

"Never though I'd find ye here." He said.

His father squinted up at him. "Don't speak o' what ya don't know of."

"The Brigand's Haven burnt down. I'm guessing all your money burnt with it?"

Tom grunted. "In a sense. But it ain't my fault."

"Oh, it isn't?"

"Nope."

"How d'ye figure that?"

"Sit down, Jack. This'll take a while."

Jack wanted to defy his father as much as possible. But, from force of habit, he found himself sitting.

Tom cleared his throat. "So tell me. What've you been up to these few months?"

"You've never cared about me before, why the sudden interest now?"

"You're bold all've a sudden." His father commented.

I'm sure that the reader has noticed the exact same thing. This was because Jack had quickly learned that not all men were as controlling or quick to anger as his father. Once free of Tom's strict command, he learned that there was more than one way to live, and, as soon as he had realized that, he had immediately chosen to break free of the servile manner that had been instilled in him by his father.

He was still Jack Sparrow, but he was becoming more and more like the Jack Sparrow who would become wildly famous in a few year's time. He was breaking free of his father, and this was, of course, a good thing. Tom, however, was understandably upset. He became even more so when he heard Jack's reply.

"You can't hurt me, Dad. Not anymore. I'm rich; you're poor. I'm a successful pirate; you're a penniless bum. I've won; you've lost. It's over. I'm not afraid of you anymore. Next time you hit me, I'll hit back. But there won't be a next time, will there?" Jack quirked his eyebrows and smiled.

"There'll be a next time if I say so!" Tom insisted.

"No. It's my turn to be the boss now. You won round one; I can't deny that. But round two's just beginning, and this time the stakes are higher. And guess what? I've got the ace." Jack answered.

Tom could see that the current conversation was getting them nowhere, so he changed tact. "So, you're a pirate, eh?"

"Aye." Jack said, suspiciously. "An' if ye want some o' me money on account o' what I said about being successful just now, ye can forget it. I've not got that much, it's a fair amount an' it was hard earned, so ye can just-"

"Jack, relax. I'm not after your money."

"Excuse me if I don't trust you." he replied instantly.

There was a silence between them, during the duration of which they stared at one another intensely.

"This isn't my fault, you know." Tom said. "Me bein' broke."

Jack looked incredulous. "Oh, surely it isn't!" he said with a great amount of sarcasm. To tell the truth, Jack probably would have blamed his father even if he had been robbed of all his money after being knocked unconscious. It would have been his own fault fir being knocked out.

"It's _not._" Tom insisted. "Look here, Jack. In this family, things happen. My father, his father, his father's father's father's father- they all died penniless. This family is cursed, Jack."

Jack sniggered. "Sure. That's convenient. You're right! It _wasn't_ you fault! It was _the curse!"_

"Go ahead, laugh." Tom said sulkily. "But one day you'll lose everything, you won't be laughing then!"

"I don't believe in curses; there's no such thing." Jack replied. "And I'll prove it to you."

"Why are you so eager to prove yourself to a father you detest?" Tom asked, sure that Jack did not possess the answer.

But Jack replied with, "Because I want to prove that it's your fault that you've become…" he looked him over, and did not see his father. He saw only a beggar. "_This._"

"You're a pirate, Jack. Success implies that what you're successful at is legal."

"Whoever said that was daft. I can, and will, be a successful pirate. I will be the best, most feared, and most infamous pirate on the ocean." As Jack said it, he knew that this oath would shape his life. He would spend the rest of his days trying to fulfill it, and only death would stop him.

"I'll hold you to that." Jack's father replied seriously.

"I'll break this curse, if there is one." It was a question- Will fulfilling my oath set myself and all my descendants free from the curse?

Tom nodded, providing a dual answer.

"I should go." Jack said. "My friends," he let the word roll slowly from his mouth, enjoying his father's reaction to it's use, "Will be missing me."

Jack walked away, leaving his father alone once more.

"Go." Tom whispered, too soft for any to hear. "It's too late for me, but it's not too late for you. Break this curse… son."

So perhaps there is still hope for Tom Sparrow's soul.

-

I will be very grateful if you would find it in your hearts to leave me a review.


	3. The Hat

Chapter 3- The Hat

Thanks for reviewing. I'm leaving for vacation Saturday, July 30, and I won't be back until August 11th. After that, I'm going to sleepaway camp on the 15th. I also need to actually write chapter four. But, I swear I'll try my very hardest to get it up between vacation and camp. Alright... I think that's all. On to the story!

-

"You okay, Jack?" Jacob finally asked, once he could no longer ignore the fact that Jack had been staring off into space for the last few minutes instead of participating in the conversation he'd been having with Charlie over supper.

"Is anyone?" Jack did not look at Jacob; he seemed utterly engrossed in the piece of hardtack he was knawing on. (If the reader has ever had hardtack, you will know that knawing on it is the only way it can be eaten.)

Jacob gave Charlie an exasperated look. This had been Jack's reply to similar questions for the past few days. He seemed to be going through a depressed mood, and nothing either Jacob or Charlie tried to do could bring him out of it.

The reason for his depression was that, after almost exactly one year, he had done nothing to fulfill his vow. He had thought about it a great deal, but he was, for the moment, helpless to make it come about.

The first step to fame, Jack reasoned, was getting your own ship. Doing that, however, had a set of problems all it's own. To get a ship, one needed money. Unless, of course one wanted to commandeer a vessel, but Jack had reasoned that a seventeen-year-old boy had little chance of pulling that off. So, back to needing money.

Jack wasn't sure how much a ship cost, but he knew that it would take him at least two or three year's worth of savings to get the money. If he were promoted he would be able to earn more money, so he had been working harder then usual for the last few weeks. But the Captain still had not noticed.

He had thought he might have a chance to prove his worth a few days ago, when the Captain informed the crew that the deck was in need of re-tarring. "I know it ain't a job any of you likes," he had said, "But do I have anyone willing to volunteer?"

Jack's hand had shot up. "I'll do it, sir!"

The Captain smiled at him. "Good man, Jack. Anyone else, or do I have to assign some of ye?" And that had been that. When Jack sank into his hammock that evening he was a great deal sorer, but still a common sailor.

"Tell us Jack, why so pessimistic?" Jacob's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"No reason."

"C'mon, there has to be one!" Charlie said.

"Well, there isn't, alright! Just leave me alone!" And with that, Jack stormed out of the mess hall, taking his mostly uneaten piece of hardtack with him.

When he reached the deck, he made his way over to the railing and leaned against it, as he often did when he was pensive. He took a bite of hardtack, but unluckily found that he had bitten into a weevil. He spit it out, grimacing.

"The bloody worse part o' bein' a pirate is the damn food." He muttered.

"Are you all right?" someone asked from behind him.

Jack spun around, to find that the person who spoke had been the captain.

The captain was called Furious Red in the few stories told about him, named for his hair color and fierceness in battle. Otherwise, however, the captain was a fairly decent man, and most aboard the ship called him Captain Red, good-naturedly. Only the bosun, who had known him for twenty years, called him James, his given name.

"I'm fine, sir." Jack said.

"That'd be why you aren't enjoying some time with your friends in the mess hall?" Red raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't feel like it tonight, sir." Jack said.

"Care to share why not?"

"I took an oath, and I don't know how to keep it."

"Well, what was the oath?"

Jack hesitated.

Red's look softened. "This is more serious than a child's fancy, then." He observed softly.

Jack swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"You can tell me, Jack. I swear I ain't gonna laugh at ye."

"My father says that our family's cursed. I- I swore to him that I'd break it." It was an immense relief to get what he had as of yet told no one off his chest.

"This is very important to you, isn't it?"

He nodded, relieved that the captain seemed to understand.

Red clapped him on the shoulder. "I wish you the best of luck, then." With that, he walked away.

Jack spun around. To say that he was disappointed would have been a massive understatement. "I don't get any advice, or anything?" he asked.

"The best advice comes when you aren't looking for it." Red said simply.

-

The next day, Jack had changed his attitude. He no longer moped, but tried to be exceptionally alert to everything that was going on around him.

Red had given him advice after all, he had realized. "The best advice comes when you aren't looking for it."

This made him think. If advice could be so cleverly hidden like that, could not other things be, too? What he seemed to be saying was to be constantly alert.

So Jack began looking for hidden nuances in everyday conversations. He learned that body language often spoke truth when words lied, and a smile that did not reach the eyes was usually an untruth.

Soon his crewmates began to grow wary of him. Jack seemed to know things, things that no one else could possibly have noticed. In a few weeks, it became known that Harvey, who to all seemed to steadily dislike his brother Mark, actually would do anything for him; the affable Kevin secretly despised Pierre; and Jules had a mistress back in Tortuga who was loyal only to him.

Many in the crew, especially the ones who had been exposed, began to avoid Jack like the plague. Jack himself did not honestly mind. He still had a few friends, and did not see the need to be popular. 

Charlie and Jacob seemed to be the only ones who were bothered by the situation, so they advised him. Charlie said that he should stop doing whatever it was that was allowing him to know all these things; Jacob said that he should keep doing it but stop making his knowledge public. Jack took Jacob's advice. Of course he didn't care if he was well liked or not, but if he did not make the things he knew public they became valuable weapons. 

So, Jack slowly returned to favor among the members of the crew. Of course there were still those, like Harvey and Jules, who disliked him. They took to teasing, ridiculing, and annoying him, being mean and generally not making his life easy.

But when Jack looked back on these events in the weeks to come, he saw them for what they truly were- the last semblances of calm before the proverbial and much dreaded storm. 

-

About two weeks into Jack's return to favor, a ship was spotted on the horizon one morning. She was a French merchant ship, and too much for the captain to resist. They ran up the French flag and shot off a friendly salute. The ship, thinking she had found an ally, drew closer.

As soon as she was in firing distance, Red gave the order to hoist the Jolly Roger. By then, it was too late for the other ship. They opened fire on her. Being a merchant ship, she was unequipped for battle. Red, who was usually humane, gave them an offer- surrender, and all those who wished to join his crew would be allowed to. Those who wanted to be "bloody righteous idiots" would be set adrift in a small boat with a few supplies.

Most chose the former. Some chose the latter. Red sent Charlie, Jacob, Jack, Mark, and Kevin over to deal with the "bloody righteous idiots."

There was a sailor on this ship who had more cause to hate pirates than most. They had killed his wife and children. These pirates were not the same, but to Jacques Dovet it mattered not.

As the selected members of the pirate crew loaded the boat he and others were to be set drift in with supplies, Jacques crept up behind them. Only a few noticed, and they were on his side, so it mattered not.

He chose his target- the old, fat one nearest him. Upon reaching him, he took out a dagger that he had concealed and stabbed him in the back. Charlie fell to the ground with a cry.

"No!" Jack yelled, running to him.

Jacob turned upon Jaques with rage in his eyes. In the blink of an eye, He drew his sword and stabbed him through the chest. Then he also went to Charlie's side.

Mark and Kevin drew their swords and made it very clear that any who tried to do anything like that would suffer a similar fate to Jacques'. They conveyed this message very effectively and in a way that made the fact that they did not speak French a complete moot point.

Jacob and Jack, however, were oblivious to all this. They had been put in the most horrible of positions- their friend was horribly wounded and was bleeding in their arms.

At this point I am going to put you, the reader, out of the misery of the suspense I have just built up. Charlie is, indeed, going to die. He will meet his end and not linger, or, indeed suffer much. He will exchange a few words with Jack and Jacob, and do one more thing besides. Now, let us return to the scene.

"Charlie…" Jack said brokenly. "It'll be okay, you'll be alright…"

Charlie shook his head. "I'm gonna die, Jack, and we both know it." He managed. He turned to Jacob. "Look after 'im." He implored, motioning at Jack.

"I will." Jacob promised.

"Jack," Charlie said. "I want ye teh 'ave this." He took the hat from his head and held it out with a trembling hand. Jack took it.

"Ye're a good pirate, Jack," he said softly. "I 'ope…"

But whatever it was that he had hoped, it was not to be known, for Charlie went limp with a sigh, and exited this world.

Jacob closed his eyes and murmured a prayer. Jack burst into tears. 

-

They put Charlie's body in his hammock and sewed it up. Then they held the funeral. Red read a few verses from his bible, and Jacob and Jack said a few words. Then they committed his body to the sea.

Jack wallowed in his despair for days after. He went about his work slowly and dejectedly, speaking to no one. He would not eat unless Jacob made him, and he spent all his free time lying in his hammock.

After almost a week of this, Red decided that something needed to be done. So he called Jack to his cabin.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Jack asked, peeking his head around the door.

"Come in, Jack." Red said.

He did so. Red bade him to sit in one of the chairs he had set facing each other.

"Jack, I've been noticing something." The Captain said as he took a seat in the other chair.

"What's that, sir?"

"It's that ever since Charlie's death you've been moping. It isn't good for you. If you're ever going to break that curse of yours, you've got to get off your arse and do something about it."

Jack's eyes flashed anger. "Charlie was like a father to me!" he exclaimed. "I've known him since I was twelve… he was my friend." As swiftly as it had come, his anger was leaving him and he was left with only his melancholia.

"You see what I mean?" Red asked. "You're good for nothing when you're like this!"

'What do you suggest I do, then?" Jack's anger had returned.

"I'm setting anchor for Tortuga. I suggest you do some serious thinking while we're there. I won't want to see any moping after that."

"Will that be all?" Jack asked, anger still obvious in his voice.

Red sighed. "You're angry at me. Your friend just died, and you think you have the right to mope about it. But life doesn't just stop when we're grieving, Jack. You ought to learn that."

-

When they docked in Tortuga, Jack went to see his father, who made good use of the opportunity to remind Jack of the curse. Jack got irritated with him and left more determined to break the curse then ever.

Due to Red's influence warring with his instinct to mope, Jack developed an interesting way of dealing with grief. He never really got over Charlie's death, and poured all his leftover emotions into his hat, which he soon grew to treasure.

And that, dear readers, is the story of why Jack Sparrow is so bloody fond of his hat.

-

I know this chapter didn't further the plot much, but I liked the idea, and it does explain the hat. In the next chapter, we will get into events that you will recognize, and meet a few characters that are not OCs. I'll try to upload when I get back from vacation. 


	4. Betrayal

Chapter 4- Betrayal

Um. Yes, yes, I know, I've gone a month without updating already, and I know there's no excuse… but this chapter was very hard to write because it portrays a key event in Jack's life and I wanted to do it justice. So please, please don't hate me for taking so long! And please, please, please review!

I feel like I should mention that today (September 19) is International Talk Like A Pirate Day. This occasion was what really motivated me to upload today… Oh, and some of you may have noticed there's a new summary up. I was hoping it would be more enticing.

I can't find where he said this (If anyone will tell me I'd be grateful), but apparently Johnny Depp once said that he thought Barbossa's first name should be Hector. In my opinion, that's as close to canon as we can get, so I have taken this idea.

* * *

"If there is a curse, which I'm still not convinced of, " Jack said, approaching his father with a grin on his face. "I'd hazard a guess that it's soon to be broken,"

"Oh?" Tom asked, squinting up at him. "And how d'you reckon that?"

"You are not looking at Jack Sparrow," he replied with an air that attracted curiosity like rancid meat did flies.

"Oh?" Tom repeated. "Have you gone an' changed yer name, or somethin'?"

"Nope," Jack said. "Even better. I am no longer merely Jack Sparrow. I have become…" Jack grinned, seeing a reluctant sort of intrigue on his father's face.

Tom noticed him looking and scowled. "Get on with it," he grumbled. His tone seemed to suggest that he had much better things to do than listen to Jack rave on. This effect was rather spoiled by the fact that he was sitting in a gutter.

"I have become," Jack continued. "Captain Jack Sparrow," he could not hide the grin of wild euphoria that invaded his face.

"Oh," Tom said. "Is that all?"

"Is- is that all?" Jack asked incredulously. "Do you know how bloody hard it is to get a ship? It's not a little boat mind you, not a sloop either, but a ship! True, she's only a three master, but still… do you have any idea how much a ship like that costs?"

"You got it legally, then?"

"Not it!" Jack said exasperatedly. "Her. You don't know the first thing about ships, do you?"

"Not really," Was the reply.

"I can tell. You could show a bit more respect," Jack said.

"How is this going to help you break the curse, though?" Tom asked, ignoring Jack's response.

"Well, I figure me and this ship will go on to do great things, you see," he said.

"Aren't you a bit young to be a captain?" Tom asked skeptically.

"I'm twenty!" Jack protested. He had been working for four long years for this, the moment when he could tell his father he had his own ship, and he was very resentful that it wasn't going at all like he had planned.

Tom squinted up at him. "No you ain't," he said. "You're still nineteen, and will be fer six months,"

"I am not!' Jack said hotly. "I turned twenty in March!"

"Did not," Tom replied. "You were born in December,"

"No, I wasn't,"

They glared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Honestly," Jack said, shaking his head. "Doesn't even know when his only son was born. I don't know why I bother. Look- I have to be somewhere. I won't get to stop by again before I leave port, but listen- when you hear stories about a ship named the Black Pearl- you'll know I've stole my way into legend,"

"That's just a bunch o' melodrama," Tom said.

"Oh, stuff it," Jack did not say. I have only said that he said this because "stuff it", unlike what he actually said, is fit for repeating in polite company.

With that parting shot, Jack walked away. Tom watched him go.

"You still could fail!" his father yelled after him. "Anything could happen! The ship could sink, or your crew could turn on you, or you could get caught by the navy! Do yeh hear me? Anything could happen!"

Jack ignored him. What did he know, anyway? He tried to use these thoughts to comfort himself, but he was, in truth, greatly unsettled by his father's words- because, of course, any of those things could happen.

No, of course they won't! Jack tried to tell himself. You're being stupid! But however much he tried to tell himself this, he was still reluctant to believe it. The truth was that ever since Charlie's death, Jack's luck had seemed to worsen. He had had a number of near-death experiences that almost certainly would not have happened if Charlie had still been there to look after him. Due to his miraculous escapes, some had begun calling him 'Lucky Jack'. Jacob thought he was blessed, but Jack privately thought that cursed was more like it.

Jack had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had not noticed that he had arrived at the Faithful Bride, which was his destination. He walked in and scanned the room to see if his first mate, Hector Barbossa, had arrived already. Jack saw him in a shadowy table in the corner. He walked over.

"'Ello Hector," he said. "How are you doing?"

"Just fine, Captain," Barbossa said with a smile that always put Jack at ease. "I've got the crew all sorted. Every one of them's signed your articles,"

"Good!" Jack said, smiling. "Yer doin' a fine job, Hector,"

"Thank you, sir," Hector replied.

As they discussed the crew and the upcoming voyage, Jack thought again what a lucky find Hector had been. He seemed to be a good man, and honest too. When Jack had come to the pub a few days ago to look for a first mate and crew, he wasn't expecting it to be so easy. But Hector had approached him almost at once. Jack had immediately seen the gleam of interest in Hector's eyes when he told him about the treasure of the Illa de Muerta that he planned on going after. He was glad to see Hector wasn't bothered by the legend of the curse. Jack wasn't either. He didn't believe in that sort of thing.

When Jack had mentioned how hard it would be to put together a crew who shared these views, Hector once again pleasantly surprised him by offering to collect a crew himself. Pleased at having found such an enthusiastic first mate, he agreed.

Later, Jack looked back on those days and hated himself for his own naïveté. He had made a very easy mistake common in those whose lives had not yet fully hardened them- he trusted the wrong person.

Barbossa was not so confident as the blissfully ignorant Jack. There was a wild card thrown into the carefully calibrated mix of the Black Pearl's crew, and it- or, more accurately, he- was the thorn in Barbossa's side. Jack had himself chosen the ship's gunner before even meeting Barbossa. He was a good friend and had followed Jack when he left Sweet Vengeance. His name was William, but few called him that. To most he was known as Bootstrap Bill Turner.

Barbossa was worried that Bill would ruin his plan. When it came time to act, where would his loyalties lie? Barbossa wasn't afraid to use threats and force to influence Bootstrap's decision, but would he let himself be manipulated? Or would he stand by his friend no matter what? He could only hope that Turner could be persuaded to help him. If not? Well, Barbossa hoped to maroon Jack alone, but maybe it would be better to give him a little company.

-

On the third day and second night of the Black Pearl's journey at twenty minutes before midnight, Barbossa, who was at the helm, turned to Pintel, who was standing behind him. "Go fetch Bootstrap," he ordered.

Pintel blinked, decided that Barbossa was definitely talking to him, and asked, "Why?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes. Pirates were a superstitious lot, and it hadn't been easy to find a crew that would both go along with the mutiny and not be cowed by the supposed curse. Some of them were intelligent; they knew that Barbossa could give them more than Sparrow could, wanted the wealth the gold would supply, and didn't believe in ghost stories. Some, like Pintel, were stupid; they wanted gold, and Barbossa had told them that he could deliver and Sparrow could not. Sometimes, however, he regretted his decision to sign on Pintel and those like him. This was one of those times.

"Because I told you to," Barbossa said impatiently. "Just tell him I need to see 'im!"

Pintel shuffled off, returning a few minutes later with Bootstrap.

"What's happening?" Bootstrap Bill asked. "Pintel said you needed to see me,"

"Yes, I did. Pintel?"

Pintel stopped picking his nails and looked up at Barbossa. "Huh?"

"Take the wheel,"

Pintel did.

"You see, Bootstrap, it's like this," he said, walking away from the wheel. "I know that you're a friend of the Cap'n's, but surely you can see that I could give this crew more than he can,"

Bill looked at him warily. He wasn't stupid. He thought he could guess where Barbossa was heading. "What are you sayin'?" he demanded.

"Well, me and the rest of the crew think I would be a better captain than Sparrow. All I ask is that you don't get in our way when it comes time for us to act,"

"The only action you have to take is to call a vote," Bootstrap replied. "If the majority want the captain to step down, then he will,"

"Aye, that's true," Barbossa agreed. "But we need for 'im to be out of the way altogether,"

"You're planning a mutiny," Disgust enveloped Bill. "I won't let you get away with it!"

"Hm. That's what I was afraid of," Barbossa glanced at Bill's right hand. He smiled when he saw a ring on his finger. "You're married?" he asked.

"Aye," Bill replied cautiously.

"Got any children?"

"A boy. Why?"

Barbossa smiled malevolently. "It would be too bad fer him if I had to kill you, wouldn't it?" Bill paled. "Of course, side with me…" he continued. "And you won't need to worry about it,"

Bill stood motionless. What were his options? Side with Jack and be killed along with him, dooming his wife and son to poverty, or betray his friend and secure their future? What was the obvious answer? Bill loved Victoria and Will; they didn't deserve to be poor. And Jack could take care of himself- couldn't he?

Bill heard the voice of Jacob, another friend of Jack's who had stayed behind on Sweet Vengeance. _"Look after 'im, Bootstrap. Jack's still young. He's too compassionate, sometimes. Keep 'im from gettin' hurt,"_ Bill closed his eyes, trying to erase the memory. He didn't want to betray Jack, but he had no choice! Surely Jack would understand.

"Alright," he said, very quietly. "I'll go along with it,"

Barbossa laughed, making Bill hate him, and himself, even more. "I thought you would. Now- go an' fetch Sparrow,"

"Why?" Bill demanded.

"Because the time to act is now, Bootstrap. I need you to prove your worth,"

Bill turned to go.

"Turner?"

"Aye?"

"Tip 'im off an' I'll have your head,"

"I won't tell 'im," Bill said, feeling incomparably low.

It was five minutes until midnight.

-

Bill knocked on the door of Jack's cabin. After getting no response, he knocked harder. "C'mon Jack, just open the bloody door. Don't make this harder on me," he muttered.

"Come in!" Jack called, sounding drowsy.

Bill entered. Jack was sitting up in bed, still looking half asleep. "What's goin' on?"

"Uh, Barbossa needs to see you up on deck," Bill improvised.

Jack's brow creased. "Why? Somethin' wrong?"

"Aye," Bill said, avoiding Jack's eyes. "Something is,"

"What?" Jack asked.

"I'm not sure, but you'd better hurry," Bill felt as low as he ever had.

"Alright," Jack said, pulling on his boots and grabbing his coat.

Bill saw Jack's hat lying on his desk. "You're rather fond of that hat, aren't you?" he asked.

Jack nodded, looking confused.

Bill picked up the hat and handed it to him. "Take it with you,"

"Why?" Jack asked. "William… what's happening out there?"

"I wish to God I could tell you, Jack," Bill said sadly. "But I can't,"

He walked away quickly before Jack could stop him.

_What the devil was that about?_ Jack thought, walking up to the wheel. _It takes something powerful to spook William like that. He said something was wrong…_ Worried, Jack sped up.

He reached Barbossa, who stood behind Pintel at the helm.

"William said somethin' was up," he said to Barbossa.

"Aye. Something is," Barbossa said.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked Barbossa concernedly.

"You see, Jack, this is nothing personal," Barbossa began. "It's not about you, it's about the treasure. I'd've exploited anyone in your place,"

"Hector… what are you talking about?" Jack asked warily.

"Do you honestly not know?" he asked. "You're more naive than I thought. It's over, Jack,"

Jack shook his head. "No… you don't mean… you can't…" A feeling of despair was growing in the pit of Jack's stomach. He seriously thought he might be ill. Surely, after how hard he had worked… he couldn't loose everything now!

Barbossa gave him a fiendish grin. "Like I said, mate. 'S nothing personal,"

Jack's heart was racing, and suddenly he found himself very angry. "Why, you backstabbing-"

As Jack began to speak, Barbossa rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was Jack going on a tirade, trying to make him feel guilty. "All right you lot," Barbossa said. "Get over here,"

They came. Like ghosts appearing on the spot, the entire crew of the Black Pearl slipped from the shadows. They eyed Jack with eager anticipation, the way a crowd will breathlessly watch an execution. They all knew what was coming… and they were drawn to the events not only by Barbossa's orders but also their own morbid curiosities.

Jack didn't spare them much more than a glance. His eyes sought the one man on this ship he still thought was trustworthy.

He found him standing behind Ragetti. Oh so reluctantly, still feeling like shit, Bill met the eyes of his captain and friend.

"William…" Jack's voice cracked. He gulped. "William, please…"

Bill closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry Jack. If I'd've had any other choice…"

"I was under the impression that betrayal was always a choice," Jack said harshly.

Bill bent his head. "You're right. I chose to go along with it… but dammit Jack, he would've killed me… an' I got a family teh think of…"

Jack sighed and nodded resignedly.

"A very touching and sentimental scene that was," Barbossa interjected. "But I really have other things I'd rather be doing with my evening."

Jack turned on his former first mate. "You. I trusted you! Do you have any idea what this ship means to me? Do you have any idea what I wet through to get 'er?"

Barbossa looked bored with this tirade.

_"Do you?"_ Jack screamed.

Barbossa raised an eyebrow. "Pitiful. I must admit, I expected something a bit more impressive."

The crew laughed. Jack spat at Barbossa's feet.

An invisible line had been crossed. Instantly, Barbossa's face became serious and the crew stopped laughing.

Barbossa jerked his head at Jack. "Take 'im to the brig."

Eyes gleaming, the crew surged forward to seize Jack. He fought them off as best he could, but he was unarmed, and a cutlass at your throat is a wonderful motivation to stop struggling.

Barbossa shook his head at Jack. "Got a bit of a fighting spirit in you, eh?" His eyes moved to the crew. "Beat it out of 'im. Take it as far as you like, but kill 'im and I'll keelhaul the lot of you!"

The crew laughed. "Aye, Cap'n." they said.

-

Well, there you have it. Was it worth the wait? I hope so. In the next chapter- the marooning, and Jack's infamous escape from the island.


	5. Failure

Chapter 5- Failure 

Well… I feel the need to say that I've been a bit discouraged lately. This story has gotten very few reviews… so, if you've been reading this, and haven't reviewed it yet… please do! You don't have to review every chapter that's up… but try to make an effort to do the new ones, ok?

Three more things before we get to it. One, there is lots of angst and torture in this chapter (okay, maybe not _lots,_ but _some_), so please observe the rating. Two, I put up another fic, a Jack/Anamaria fic called "Wanted". The summary's really bad, but if you like that sort of thing, check it out! (It's rated M though, so be warned.) Thirdly, if I ever go a really long time without updating or something, you can check out my profile. I usually try to say why on there. It'll be in bold, too, so you don't have to read through the whole thing if you don't want to.

Okay, okay… you can read the story now!

* * *

The pain had mostly faded to an agonizing ache by now. Jack was glad. It was a substantial improvement. 

The crew- Barbossa's man every one, they always had been, how could he have been so blind?- had tortured him for hours.

Jack had been beat before. He had gained many minor wounds in battle and even a few serious ones. Growing up, he had had the crap beaten out of him by his father on a regular basis.

But none of it had been able to hold a candle to this.

First they surrounded him and beat him, hitting and kicking in any place they could reach. Jack bore it alright until Bo'sun, the huge black man who was known by no other name, kicked him in the crotch, causing him to cry out in spite of himself. They laughed at him then, but he ignored them.

But that was only the beginning. They tied him to the mast in a position where he couldn't see behind him. So, he was unprepared when the whip hit him.

Jack stood it for as long as he could, but he had never been lashed before, and the pain was so great… finally, as the whip bit into his already bloody and torn open skin, he screamed. But they didn't stop. They had broken him. Now their fun could begin.

Finally, Jack just hung there. His only reaction to the whip was a twitch and a wince. Involuntary tears streamed down his face. The inclusive pain was so great that the individual strikes of the lash didn't hurt anymore. He had already emptied the contents of both his stomach and his bladder onto the deck, to the delight of the crew.

Shortly after he reached that state, they cut him down, and he fell to the deck at once, his legs too tired to support him. Someone grabbed him, but he was too tired to lift his head and find out who.

He was unconscious before they got him to the brig.

He woke up sometime later, and managed to get up into a sitting position. The cold metal of the cell bars felt good against his burning back. He registered that his hat was gone, though he had no recollection of losing it.

He hadn't been awake for long when he heard the trapdoor that led down to the brig creak open and someone's voice calling his name.

"Bugger off," he replied, alarmed at how hoarse his voice sounded. He scarcely recognized it!

Bill (for of course it was he) was alarmed too. He hadn't been able to get away from the sounds of the crew torturing Jack last night, not matter how hard he tried. He had felt his heart break for his friend a million times- now; as he descended the stairs to the belly of the ship bearing bandages and water to wash Jack's wounds, it broke again.

"Jack?" he said, moving toward the cells. "It's me."

"I know." Jack replied. "Bugger off."

"Jack- just let me help."

" 'Ow are you goin' to help me?"

"I just want to-" he stopped abruptly. The brig was very dark, and, even though he had come there from below decks, Bill's eyes still needed to adjust.

What made Bill stop talking was that his eyes had adjusted almost fully by then, and he had seen Jack. Or rather Jack's back. Bill knew he must be hurt bad, but _this?_ The mass of still-bleeding welts was worse than he had expected.

"Barbossa know you're here, mate?" Jack asked.

"Yeah." Bill replied. He opened the door to Jack's cell and stepped in. "Turn around," he said.

Jack complied, and winced when the wet rag touched his skin.

"Sorry." Bill said. "You needed to be cleaned up, is all."

"What's the point?" Jack asked. "He's gonna kill me in the end, right?"

Bill hesitated, unwilling to tell Jack the truth but utterly unable to lie.

"Tell me.'' Jack said calmly.

"Yeah." Bill said again. "Yeah, he is."

"How?"

"Dunno."

"Liar."

Bill was silent for a long moment, then he said- "I think he was plannin' to maroon you." he said softly.

Cars were, of course, invented a while after this, but if they had been around then  
Bill surely would have described the look on Jack's face as a 'deer in headlights' sort of expression. Then Jack composed himself and the normal (or at least, normal for him) look resumed its position on his face.

"I see," was all Jack said.

They were silent as Bill washed and bandaged Jack's wounds. When Bill was done, he stood and gathered up his supplies. He made to leave, but Jack stopped him.

"William," he said.

"Aye?"

"It's all right." Jack said. "Don't keep blamin' yourself. I know ye had to do it. I don't blame ye."

"Jack-" Bill said, uncomprehending. "I betrayed you! I-"

"You went along with a mutiny you were powerless to stop. You were thinkin' of yer family first, that's how it should be." Jack said firmly.

"But if I had helped you, if I had been on your side-"

"If you had you'd be in the cell next to me." Jack interrupted. "There's nothin' to forgive, but you seem to think there is, so- I forgive you."

Bill shook his head. "No. I don't deserve it."

He left before Jack could stop him.

-

The entire crew turned out at high noon to see Jack marooned. The hot Caribbean sun flashed down on them, its happy rays a cruel mockery of the drama that played out below.

Bo'sun brought the former captain up from the brig himself. Jack stood tall and proud as he was led up on deck. He wouldn't let them see him break. Not again.

The crew had lined up single file. The line went from the trapdoor leading below to the plank Barbossa had set up. The man himself stood at the end, facing Jack. Jack resisted the urge to laugh when he saw the plank. It seemed rather stereotypical to him.

Now, why did he want to laugh? Why the hell? He had lost his ship, and would shortly loose his life. The only explanation was that he must be going crazy. _Yes, I'm going crazy,_ he thought obscurely. _Good. That's okay then._

Halfway down the line, Jack stopped. He stood in front of Bill.

"William-" he began, but Bill shook his head.

"Here," he said, stepping forward. In his hand, he held out Jack's hat.

Jack smiled ruefully, looking down at his bound hands.

Bill hesitated for a moment; then placed the hat on Jack's head himself.

"Thanks, mate," Jack said softly.

Bill shook his head. "Thank _you_."

_For what?_ Jack wondered, but then he knew- for his forgiveness.

"Don't mention it," he said.

"You'll be alright." Bill said.

Jack shook his head. "Nah, I won't," he said regretfully.

"Yeah you will." Bill said confidently.

" 'Ow come?"

"Because. You're Captain Jack Sparrow."

Bo'sun had had enough. "Alright, Sparrow, let's go. Bootstrap, get back in line!"

Bill stepped back into place.

When Jack reached the end of the line, Barbossa held out a pistol. (In accordance with the ship's articles, a marooned member of the crew must be given a pistol with one shot and a flask of water.) Jack took it and tucked it into his belt, as best he could with his hands tied.

"What about the water?" he asked.

"What water?" Barbossa asked innocently.

Cold fear seeped into Jack's stomach. "You know very well what I mean."

"The arrangement of a flask of water was in your articles. Mine are a bit different." Barbossa informed him.

"You cheating-"

"I did nothing of the sort. Articles vary from captain to captain, you know that as well as I do."

Jack was silent, because this was true.

Barbossa cleared his throat. "Well then, if we have nothing more to say to one another…" he gestured toward the plank, his meaning clear.

Jack didn't respond for a moment, wondering what would happen if he just shot Barbossa where he stood. He could certainly kill him at this range, and he did have surprise on his side…but the crew was loyal to Barbossa, not him, so the outcome would be the same- death, possibly a worse fate than the one that faced him now.

But- to be marooned? To die from lack of food and water? Jack was sure there were worse deaths, but this one was definitely in the top twenty.

"What are you thinking about, Sparrow?" Barbossa asked quietly. "Thinking about being all alone on that island? Thinking about being left alone with… temptation?" he punctuated the last word with a glance at the gun.

_Temptation_. Jack knew what he meant by that. The gun gave those marooned means to end their lives with minimal suffering, but everyone knew that suicide damned you to hell.

"I'm thinkin' you wouldn't be quite so ugly if you didn't smirk so much, mate." Jack replied. "Didn't your mother ever tell you your face would get stuck like that?"

"If it does, you won't be around to see it, will you?" his former first mate said. "I grow tired of dealing with your impertinence, Sparrow. Get off my ship."

Jack's eyes glinted dangerously. "She's not your ship. She'll never be your ship."

He stepped onto the plank and walked to the end of it. He had never fainted in his life but right now felt as if he might.

He turned around. The crew had congregated around the side of the ship, watching him. He scanned them until he found Bill standing against the railing.

Jack lifted his bound hands and touched his forehead in a salute. Bill returned the gesture. _I'm sorry,_ he mouthed, but Jack shook his head. The time for apologies had passed long ago.

Jack turned to face the island once again. He took a deep breath and stared into the clear cerulean water. He hesitated for a fraction of a second-

-then plunged into the water.

Jack swam to shore and found a sharp shell, which he used to cut his bonds. He barely registered his surroundings. He turned to look out at the ocean.

The _Pearl,_ his _Pearl_ was sailing away. She had betrayed and abandoned him as thoroughly as Barbossa had, and he felt a stab of pain. He'd scarcely had her two weeks, but he had grown to love her.

Jack had never loved a woman. He had once told Bill, smiling mischievously, that he had little use for women outside of the bedroom, and it was true. Women were pretty, sure, and great to have in bed with you, but he didn't understand all that stuff and nonsense about falling in love.

But with the _Pearl,_ he could get a taste of that. When he held the wheel in his hands, when she rocked gently against the waves-

-and now she was gone. _Gone,_ and he was going to die, here, alone.

The horrible finality of the situation then hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks.

It was over. He had lost. Lost the chance to be great- lost it, along with the chance to live.

A memory tugged at him, and he remembered his father's years to him four years ago: _In this family, things happen…this family is cursed, Jack._ And then hadn't his father foreseen something like this? _You still could fail…anything could happen! The ship could sink, or your crew could turn on you…_

He _had_ failed. He had been warned but for better or for worse his damn pride wouldn't let him listen. But could you really count that as a warning? His father had just been raving about a curse that may or may not exist!

But it didn't. It didn't exist.

"If it doesn't exist," Jack murmured, "Then I won't die here."

Any other person might have taken that as evidence that the curse _was_ real, given the odds of survival, but not Jack Sparrow.

"Well," he said out loud. "That's alright then."

He set off to explore the island.

There wasn't much to look at. Grass, trees, and sand were about it. He had been hoping to find some wildlife he could eat, but there was nothing.

Jack sighed and sat down, leaning against a palm tree. He would think of something, he was sure of it. He just needed time, and fortunately that was the one thing that he had in abundance. He leaned his head against the tree, too.

_Thunk._

He frowned. Was that normal? He repeated the action.

_Thunk._

Realization dawned for Jack. He rapped on the trunk of the tree. It was clearly hollow.

He stood up and studied it thoroughly. There were five tally marks cut into the trunk, along with an arrow pointing-

Where? Jack looked, but there was nothing in that direction, just more trees.

Five. What did that mean? Five trees that way? Five feet? Five steps?

The last theory was testable, he decided. He took five large steps in the direction the arrow pointed, and looked around. Now what?

_Creak._

_Wait a minute,_ he thought. _Is the ground supposed to do that?_ He jumped a little. More creaks. The ground gave slightly beneath him. _Interesting_.

Smiling slightly, Jack began to dig.

-Two months later-

It was a rainy, dreary day and the streets of Tortuga were under crowded as a result. Most of the town was huddled around their respective fires, complaining about the weather.

The rain didn't stop Jack from his business, however. He walked through it, uncaring. He didn't hurry or duck under overhangs and awnings. He walked as he would ordinarily. He seemed not to notice he was being rained on.

The lot was deserted, its occupants gone elsewhere to escape the rain. Jack found his father sitting under the overhang of the next building down, watching the rain. He didn't acknowledge Jack when he sat down next to him. He was watching a bucket that was precariously balanced half-on, half-off a roof across the street. Jack watched it too.

After a few seconds, the bucket fell off the roof, spilling a large quantity of water with it.

Tom turned to Jack. "So they mutinied." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." Jack said quietly.

"I heard you'd been marooned."

"I was."

Tom's eyes bulged out. "An' you _survived?_"

Jack grinned. "I was fine."

"How…?"

Jack opened his mouth to say something, thought better and shut it, opened it again and said, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, repeating what William had said. "Ain't that enough?"

His father grunted. "I wouldn't joke if I were you. Do ye believe you're cursed now?"

Jack hesitated. "I'm not saying it exists an' I'm not sayin' it don't."

"Good enough, I guess."

"Why-" Jack begun to speak, but stopped.

"Why what?"

"Why does crap happen?"

His father was silent for a moment. "Sometimes life is like that bucket, Jack," he said finally. "It teeters on the brink of the edge for a while, and sometimes it gets so full of water it falls off."

"An' you're saying that things are never gonna get better?"

"That seems to be the way of the curse." Tom replied.

Jack stood. "Then I can't believe in it. I can't believe that we're doomed and there's nothing we can do about it."

"You gotta do what yeh think is right."

"I'll see you later." Jack said.

His father nodded.

Jack stepped back into the rain and walked away in it.

* * *

Please leave a review. Please, please, please, please, please. 


	6. So There Is a Curse

Please leave a review. Please, please, please, please, please. 

Chapter 6- So There is a Curse

Thank you, those of you who reviewed. It means a lot.

I am making no money off of this and Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney.

Now I am sorry to say that, if everything goes according to plan, the next chapter will be the last. But I'll be putting up the next chapter of Wanted before I even start writing Chapter 7 of this, and then I'll probably drop everything due to finals at the end of January. However, I am currently off for Christmas, so there is a chance that I can finish the next bit of Wanted over break and then put up Chapter 7 before finals start. But it's not promising. (Check my profile for updates as they happen.)

* * *

The _Pearl_ was here.

Jack could hardly believe it. What the blazes could Barbossa want in Port Royal? Him? No, that was impossible. Even if Barbossa did know he was here (unlikely) there was no way he could have gotten here so fast.

So it had to be for another reason. But Jack was clueless as to what it was.

He sighed, exasperated. Too many unanswered questions. Why was Barbossa here, where the hell did that Swann girl get that coin, why did that irritating blacksmith look so familiar, and (most importantly) how was he going to keep himself from getting hanged in the morning?

The last one he was sure he could figure out, especially now that he had a little peace and quiet. It had rankled that the cannonball that struck the prison hadn't knocked a hole in his cell too, but at least he was now alone, and didn't have to listen to the other prisoners going to pieces in their cell.

There was only one thing for it. Leaning through the bars, he picked up the bone (he wasn't sure what animal it had come from, and at the moment he was having the sneaking suspicion that it hadn't come from an animal at all) that one of the men from the other cell had been using to try and tempt that flea-ridden mongrel with the keys.

"Come 'ere, doggy! It's just you and me now. Just you an' ol' Jack. Come 'ere! Come on, you filthy-"

Suddenly, a loud, scraping clunk came from upstairs. The dog, frightened, ran off down the hall.

"No no, I didn't mean it!" Jack called uselessly. The dog had gone.

A shot came from upstairs, and the body of a dead soldier tumbled down the steps. Before Jack had time to digest this, two men came running down the stairs, their weapons drawn. Two men that he knew. Twigg, a short, stocky man who always wore a leather skullcap and a nasty look, and Koehler, tall and black, who was still wearing his hair in those dreadlocks. Two crewmembers of the _Black Pearl_.

"This ain't the armory!" Twigg exclaimed, looking around the room.

But Jack barely registered Twigg, because Koehler, Koehler had spotted him at once, and was walking towards him, a disbelieving look on his face.

"Well, well, well," he said, sheathing his sword. "Look what we have 'ere Twigg. Captain Jack Sparrow." Koehler spit at Jack's feet to show him just what he thought of him.

"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a Godforsaken island, shrinkin' into the distance. His fortunes aren't improved much." Twigg said.

"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen." Jack said carelessly. "The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers," he finished icily.

Koehler thrust his arm through the bars with a grunt and grabbed Jacks throat. Jack stared at him. As his arm crossed the bars, it had entered the moonlight falling through the window- and become skeletal, his sleeve hanging away in tatters.

"So there is a curse." Jack said, mostly to himself. "That's interesting."

"You know nothing of hell," Koehler replied. He said it quietly, bitterly. He pushed Jack away and withdrew his arm.

Without another word, Twigg and Koehler turned to go, presumably in search of the armory.

Jack studied the bone he still held. "That's very interesting," he murmured.

If it was true, if the gold _had_ been cursed, then that required a little adjustment on the way one viewed the world, now didn't it?

He had irrefutable proof that the curse existed. But if _that_ curse was real, couldn't it be that that other curse, the one his father was always ranting on about, was real too?

No. That wasn't true, it couldn't be! Just because one legendary curse was real didn't mean they all were. Jack refused to believe life could be predestined like that.

But it was troubling all the same.

* * *

Morning arrived at last, bringing with it annoying birds that perched on the window and cooed loudly, waking Jack from his light sleep.

Stretching and casting the pigeons a dirty look, Jack assembled his scattered thoughts and examined them in the fresh light of morning. After lengthy meditation, he was still hopelessly stuck in the cell with no way out that he could see.

In a burst of utter frustration, he picked up the bone and threw in against the bars. It broke. _Looks rather sharp,_ he thought absently. Sharp? He smiled.

Having managed to break off a relatively long, thin piece of the bone and stick it in the cell's lock, Jack now busied himself attempting to pick it. This was harder than it appeared.

He still wasn't making much progress when a loud noise emerged from up the stairs, followed by footsteps.

Thinking it might very well be someone sent to see if he was still locked up, Jack left the bars and lied down on the floor.

The footsteps approached the cell door at a run. "Sparrow!"

Jack lifted up his head. "Eh?"

It was the blacksmith from yesterday, he realized with interest. The boy had seemed intriguing, if only because of his familiarity. Yet to hear him tell it the two had never met. Perhaps a relative of his-

A relative? With a start, Jack realized who the boy looked like. How old would William's son be now? This boy was nineteen at youngest, in his early twenties at most. The boy had been just a wee thing last he had heard, but after the passage of ten years, perhaps…

"You're familiar with that ship, the _Black Pearl?"_

"I've 'eard of it." Jack replied.

"Where does it make berth?"

Jack lifted his head again. "Where does it make berth?" he repeated, surprised. "Haven't you 'eard the stories?" When the boy didn't reply, Jack sighed and looked back at the ceiling. "_Captain_ Barbossa," -he was rather surprised to hear what could pass as irritation and slight dislike in his voice instead of the complete bitterness and downright hate so deeply ingrained in all his memories of the man- "And his crew of miscreants sail from the dreaded Ilsa de Muerta, an island that cannot be found, _except_," he looked up pointedly, "By those who already know where it is."

The blacksmith had a no nonsense look. "The ship's real enough. Therefore its anchorage must be a real place. _Where is it?"_

"Why ask me?" Jack was certain that this boy _was _William's son; the resemblance was too close for him not to be. Interesting.

"Because you're a pirate," came the impatient reply.

"And you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?" he asked, testing the waters. The boy had clearly shown his views on piracy before now, but even so… he wondered.

"Never!" he waited for Jack to speak, when he did not, he continued. "They took Miss Swann," he concluded reluctantly.

"Oh so it _is_ that you found yourself a girl!" his only response was an icy glare. "I see. Well, if you intend to brave all, hasten to her rescue, and so win fair lady's heart, you'll have to do it by yourself mate. I see no profit in it for me."

"I can get you out of here," he offered.

" 'Ow's that? The keys ran off."

"I helped build these cells," he replied. "These are half-pin barrel hinges," he picked up a bench from the opposite wall. "With the right leverage, and the proper application of strength," he propped the bench against the door strategically, "The door will lift free."

Jack considered him. He could get himself out eventually, he was sure. That blasted commodore might even put off hanging him in light of the recent attack on the town. But if this _was _William's son… Jack couldn't help feel he owed him.

Will. That was the boy's name- William Turner the second, bearing not only his father's name but his father's face as well. Every inch of Will was a reminder that Jack had serious business that had lain unfinished- but never_ forgotten_- for ten long years.

In Jack's mind, Bill's horrible fate was irrevocably linked with his determination to get the _Pearl_ back. Could this boy help him do it, if he was who Jack thought he was? Undoubtedly.

But Jack had to know for sure, first. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Will Turner."

Jack could swear his heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. William's son. This was the boy who had never been long from his dear friend's mind, the beloved and only child of Jack's dead best friend.

"That would be short for William, I imagine. Good strong name. No doubt named for your father, eh?" he asked casually.

Will looked surprised. "Yes."

"Ah." Jack said.

Perfect. It was too perfect. This was the boy whose blood Barbossa needed. So why not propose a trade? Will for the _Pearl_. Not that Jack would actually give Barbossa Will. No, he would allow no harm to come to William's son, but the trick was to make Barbossa think he was willing to go further than he actually was. Then, at the last moment, Jack, Will, and that bloody Swann girl could slip away.

Come to think of it, the girl's possession of a cursed Aztec coin was not nearly as surprising now that he realized she and Will were acquainted. And of course the coin was the reason for Barbossa had been here last night. Things were falling into place.

Jack would get the _Pearl_ back, at long last. And he would be able to fulfill the debt he felt he owed to William. After all, his friend would be here today if not for Jack.

This is very roundabout logic. Bill ended up getting weighted down and chucked into the ocean because he felt he owed Jack for forgiving him for his unwilling participation in the mutiny. Now Jack feels that he owes Bill for getting himself stuck at the bottom of the ocean for his loyalty, because he doesn't know that Bill felt he was repaying a debt. Jack wants to help Will not only because Will can end up helping him, but also because he feels it will repay his debt to Bill. Never mind the fact that he will owe Will anyway for breaking him out of prison. (At this point, the author encourages the reader to please remember that this is a story about Jack Sparrow, who is not the sanest of men, so if the above paragraph was all Greek to you, it is all right and in no way suggests that you are unintelligent.)

"Well Mr. Turner," said Jack, standing up. "I've changed me mind. If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death, I shall take you to the _Black Pearl_, and your bonny lass. Do we have an accord?" he held out his hand.

Will looked at Jack's hand for a moment, then said, "Agreed," and shook it.

"Agreed." Jack repeated. "Get me out."

In one fluid (and rather impressive) movement, Will used the bench to push the door up off it's hinges, then grabbed it and threw it aside. "Hurry," he said. "Someone will have heard that."

Jack made immediately for a small table near the wall from which his possessions hung. "Not without my effects," he said.

Jack couldn't help but smile as he and Will ran up the stairs and put of the fort. After ten years, his luck was starting to improve.

* * *

Please review. I'm just a poor fanfiction author, and reviews are the only thing that keep me going. 


	7. Victory

Chapter 7: Victory 

Thanks all for reviewing! And thanks to all of you for staying with me through the course of the story… it means so much. Really. I'm sorry I haven't put this up sooner… writer's block struck, and I got lazy.

And now… I give you… drum roll the _final_ chapter of The Curse of the Sparrows. Alas. Thank you, everyone who left a review. It means a lot.

* * *

As the Caribbean sun beat down upon the idyllic city of Port Royal, a hanging was under way at the fort. But as with nearly everything involving Jack Sparrow, it did not go according to plan. 

It would be hard for someone to deny that Jack and Will were a great team, and that day they worked together like they never had before. But unfortunately for them, Norrington had expected something of the sort, and the guard on the fort's courtyard was tripled that day. So when Will carried out his desperate maneuver to free Jack, the Commodore was ready.

And so we rejoin our heroes, surrounded by marines with no escape- or so it appears…

They were quite clearly trapped. Jack felt the rush of excitement fade as he realized that, this time, there might not be a way out.

That stupid Commodore was looking rather pleased with himself. "I had thought we might have to endure some manner of ill-conceived escape attempt, but not from you." Norrington said to Will, pointing his sword at the two of them.

A horrible sinking feeling was taking place in Jack's stomach. He had set out to help out his best friend's son, and how had it turned out? Will could very well be hanged for helping him.

True, Barbossa _was_ dead. This was good. No, this was more than good- it was phenomenal, because as Jack had pulled the trigger, he couldn't help but feel that he was avenging William.

But now… things hadn't turned out too well, had they? Although it wasn't over yet, Jack couldn't help but feel he'd failed somehow.

He realized that the governor was saying something. "On our return to Port Royal I granted you clemency. And this is how you repay me? By throwing in your lot with him?"

Elizabeth finally managed to get to the scene, and took in the scenario with wide eyes.

"He's a pirate!" Governor Swann finished.

"And a good man!" Will replied stubbornly, and Jack felt an unexpected surge of pride. _William would be proud_, he thought, and couldn't help but grin. "If all I've achieved is that the hangman will own two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear."

Will really meant this, Jack realized. He was really willing to die for the slightest chance that it might save Jack's life.

"You forget your place, Turner." Norrington said in the disgustingly sure way of authority. He raised his sword so it pressed against the side of Will's neck.

But he didn't falter. "It's right here. Between you and Jack."

Jack couldn't let this go on. He couldn't let Will be hanged for this.

But as he was about to speak up, Elizabeth strode forward to them with a determined look in her eyes. "As is mine," she said, taking Will's hand.

"Elizabeth!" Governor Swann was clearly stunned. Then he said to the marines, "Lower your weapons," the soldiers glanced at Norrington uncertainly. "For goodness' sake, put them down!" Swann implored.

They complied.

Norrington was still staring at Elizabeth, a pained look on his face. "So this is where your heart truly lies, then," he said slowly.

She nodded. "It is."

Motion caught Jack's eye. A bird- no, a parrot- had landed on one of the fort's canons. Jack stared at it. He knew that bird. It was time to act. Will- he'd be okay. Elizabeth would see to that.

"Well," he said, smiling broadly. "I'm actually feeling rather good about this," he walked forward slowly. "I think we've all arrived in a very special place, eh?" he asked Governor Swann, purposely getting too close for comfort. "Spiritually. Ecumenically. Grammatically."

He approached Norrington. "I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate. Know that," he walked away, stopping in front of Elizabeth and Will, who, he was not at all surprised to note, had not stopped holding hands.

"Elizabeth-" he pulled his best regretful face. "It would never have worked between us, darling." It was almost comical to see the look of outrage that slowly spread across her face. "I'm sorry," he climbed the first small flight of stairs leading to the outward wall of the fort.

"Will." _Your father would be proud._ It was on the tip of Jack's tongue but at the last moment he decided that it was too private a thing for this setting. So instead he said, "Nice hat," he climbed the rest of the stairs and backed up towards the wall.

"Mates!" they all rushed forward, perhaps only now realizing what he was about to do. "This is the day that you will always remember as the day that y-"

That was as far as Jack got before he backed up too far, tripped over the short wall at the edge, and fell into the sea below.

For a moment he was weightless, slowly sinking into the seductive water- then swam for the surface, took a deep breath- and grinned, feeling better than he had in years-

Because sailing into the harbor in all her splendor was the _Pearl,_ his _Pearl,_ come back for him.

* * *

Tortuga had changed little in the years of Jack's life. It was still the decrepit old town it had always been, but Jack no longer saw it as he once had. 

When he was younger he had seen it as a dead thing, rotting away. Now he realized that it was very much alive.

And it was his home, despite all his wishes to the contrary. It always had been, and always would be. And Jack knew that that was the reason why he had always come back, and why he always would. It was _his_ home- and no one can escape their home.

And now Jack was ready. All his life he had been determined to prove- what? _Something_- to his father, and now he thought he might be able to do it.

But for some reason his feet took him on a different path from the one that would lead him to the old lot where his father now lived. For some reason he felt himself heading along the familiar path that would lead him to the Brigand's Haven.

As he walked he had to suppress the habit to hurry. As a boy he would come down to the docks on the rare occasions that his father gave him an afternoon off and stay there for hours, watching the ships and their crews.

He invariably stayed out too late, and always ran home. Sometimes he got a beating, others his father just didn't care. But whatever came afterward, the docks never lost their appeal.

Jack stopped walking.

He had expected to see the burnt, broken remains of his father's old bar, but did not. Instead he saw a bare structure, the beginning of a new building. Workmen swarmed round it, hammering things and carrying boards and such.

Jack walked toward it, wondering who was interested in the place after all this time. It had been fifteen years, after all.

His question was answered for him as he heard a very familiar voice calling orders.

"No, no- put that down there- no, over _there_- that's it."

Jack followed the voice and stopped a few paces away. He cleared his throat.

The man turned. "Jack," his father said, smiling. Jack could never in his life remember a time when his father had been glad to see him.

"Rebuilding?" Jack asked in as casual a tone as he could muster.

His father nodded.

"Where'd you get the money?"

"Found it."

"Found it?"

Tom nodded. "Whole bag of it- gold."

Jack stared at him. "You found a whole bag of gold," he repeated.

"Good luck, I guess."

"This from the man who's convinced we're cursed?"

Tom paused. "I never said the curse couldn't be broke."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"You did something." Tom continued. "You broke the curse."

"There was never a curse to begin with!" Jack protested.

"Don't you believe in curses?"

Jack opened his mouth to say no, of course not, but stopped. He had _seen_ Barbossa and his crew, even experienced the gold's curse himself, albeit briefly. After that, he couldn't be too sure. "I- I'm not sure," he admitted.

"You got your ship back, didn't you?" Tom asked.

Jack couldn't help but grin. "Aye. That I did."

"I'm glad to hear it."

There was a pause as both men realized that they had nothing more to say to one another.

"Well- I should get goin'." Jack said. "Gotta do a few things."

"Alright." Tom replied, but as Jack walked away, he called him back. "Jack!"

He turned.

"I- I'm proud of you, I guess. And… I'm sorry. For everything I did wrong."

Jack nodded, tears welling unexpectedly in his eyes. "Thanks, dad."

The End.


End file.
